Never Far From Me
by spoonscausepayne
Summary: Harry Styles is just searching for love and soon finds in local waitress Charlotte Dailey. But who exactly is Charlotte Dailey? Why is dreaming about her and what does she have to do with his past? And can something perfect really last forever? I DO NOT OWN ONE DIRECTION
1. Chapter 1

"Yeah, this'll work fine, thanks," Harry remarked, giving a quick smile to the waiter as he took his seat next to his er, beautiful blonde date, Emily.

Though they had not had hardly been with each other five minutes in the car ride to the restaurant, it was enough for Harry to tell that this date was probably going to be one to add to the fail pile. He silently cursed Zayn for setting him up on so many blind dates with such ridiculous girls over the past few weeks. I mean sure he was the only one of the boys without a girlfriend at the moment, but that didn't mean he wanted one. It also didn't mean he was even remotely lonely enough to even consider dating the um…lovely, Emily who seemed to be constantly enthralled by everything but Harry.

"So," he said, pulling his chair closer to the table and resting his elbows on top. "Emily. You mentioned you were going to UCLA. How is that?"

From the across the table Emily hadn't seemed to have even heard Harry as she had developed her full attention to the dessert menu in front of her. Harry cleared his throat loudly.

"Oh," she said, looking up for only an instant before looking back down at the menu. "Yeah it is really nice out today."

Harry nodded slowly before slipping his hands down to send Zayn a nasty text. He half wondered if by the way this girl was salivating over chocolate cake if she wasn't instead meant to be set up with Niall.

"What can I get you to drink?" a male waiter asked, walking up to their table, pad in hand.

"Oh um," Harry fumbled for the wine list. "I'll have the reisling please and a glass of water would be great."

"Perfect," the waiter said, nodding down at his notepad. "And for you, ma'm?"

Emily however had not heard him, now enveloped in a seemingly miraculous and life changing text message.

"Ma'm?" the waiter promted, still yielding no response from the blonde opposite Harry

Harry let out a loud sigh. "Emily?" he asked, shaking the table a bit.

The silence continued for about 20 seconds before Harry began gathering his belongings.

"She'll have your best dessert," Harry said, handing the waiter a $20 bill and slipping on his coat. "Don't expect much reaction from her," he said, patting the waiters shoulder and giving the greeter a quick nod before exiting into the cold winter air.

Harry shivered as he stepped into the dark parking lot. He had expected it to be cold, but it was much colder than he had anticipated. He quickly pulled his beanie and his gloves from his coat pocket and begun his way across the full parking lot to his car. As he approached, he noticed there seemed to be someone moving around the car next to his. A women, he guessed by her stature. She seemed to be fumbling around with something in the driver's door of her car, which Harry could tell as he got closer, didn't seem to be in very good shape.

Finally, within about 10 feet of the cars, Harry stopped. He could see her much clearer now, but she was still vaguely more than a silhouette under the dim parking lot lights. He could tell she had very long, brown hair which seemed to have been at some point curled, however it was now nothing more than a loose wave. She was wearing a long black trench coat over what appeared to be a waitress's uniform, similar to the one the man whom had waited his table had been suited in.

He stood a moment, pondering whether he should speak to her or not. For all he knew she could be a crazed fan and seeing as he was alone with no bodyguard or help in sight, he would be taking a big risk. She didn't give off that vibe though, Harry noted, if she was pretending to be a frantic damsel in distress she was an impressive actress.

"Excuse me," Harry said, trusting his instinct and taking a small step closer to the cars. "Do you need help or something?"

The woman looked up from the car door and stared at him. For a moment she said nothing, almost as if she had recognized him, Harry thought, but just as quickly, she went back to fumbling with the handle.

"No thanks," she said, kneeling down to the key hole and peering in. "I'm fine."

Harry was a bit taken back. To be honest, he wasn't exactly used to being rejected by women, whether it was just to offer them help or not.

"With all due respect, it doesn't quite seem like you are," Harry promted, taking a few more steps towards the door where she was standing.

The women let out a loud sigh. As Harry got closer, he could see that she was young, probably around his age he guessed. She had black pumps lying next to her as she worked barefoot, flashing bright blue toe nail polish.

"Well I guess I'm kind of…well I'm kind of fucked," she said, clutching the door handle one last time before squeezing her eyes shut and collapsing on the back of her knees.

"Oh…" Harry said, now hovering right above her, wondering if he should help console her. "Well…I'm sorry about that, but…is there anything I can do to help?"

The girl let out another sigh before looking up at Harry, the same look on her face as she had before. She titled her head slightly to the right and stared for a moment, brushing her hair off her face briefly. "What is your name? You look off ally familiar."

Great.. Here we go. "Harry," he said, quickly. "Um, my name is Harry. Harry Styles"

She nodded her head slowly, studying his face. "Harry," she repeated staring again for a moment before shaking her head quickly. "Doesn't ring a bell."

Harry couldn't help but smile at this, looking down to adjust his gloves. "Yeah I don't believe we've met before."

"You do look very familiar though, Harry," she said, hanging her head slightly. "Strange." She stared at him for a moment and looked down his length. She looked only for a moment at his face before looking down to his scarf and then to his gloves where she hovered for a moment and then quickly looked down.

It appeared as if she was shivering.

"Do you want my jacket?" Harry asked quickly, already pulling one arm out of the sleeve.

"No, no," she answered quickly. "You're fine, but… you can sit if you'd like." She patted the space in front of her lightly, looking Harry straight in the eyes.

Harry looked at the spot and then looked up at her again. This girl could potentially be crazy and there was really no way anyone would hear him scream from the restaurant. He could just leave now and go on with it. He could go home right now and finish commending Zayn on his impeccable taste in women. He was sure management would like it much better that way, along with Paul and the rest of the security staff.

With this, Harry took a seat next to the mystery girl and crossed his legs. "What's _your_ name?" he asked, smirking slightly.

"Charlotte," she said. "Charlotte Dailey," she completed, reaching out her hand towards Harry.

"It's lovely to meet you Charlotte," he said, taking her hand, while trying to remember when the last time he shook a girl's hand was and making a mental note that Charlotte's hands were very soft.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Styles," she said, taking her hand back to her lap and looking down. "Sorry about the whole fuck thing earlier, by the way, I'm just kind of…really frustrated," she said, patting the car door next to her, and looking up again.

"Is there something wrong with it?" Harry asked, grazing over the rusted paint on the bumper.

"Oh there's a ton wrong with it, the questions is what's wrong with it _today. _And the answer to that is that the driver's seat door, which might I add was the only working door in the first place, refuses to open."

Harry pretended to study the car for a moment, but found himself quickly distracted by Charlotte's profile, who was lightly brushing her fingers in circles around the side of the car. Even under the dim light, he could see that she was very attractive, but not in the way he was used to. She didn't appear to have much makeup on, aside from a bit of smeared mascara. Her lips were plump, but not overly so. Her eyes were her most prominent feature though, appearing to be a bright green. She was overtly naturally beautiful.

"Oh," Harry breathed, remembering that she was waiting for a response. He supposed she was expecting a little more of an answer, but he wasn't quite sure what to say.

"Yeah," she said, rising to her feet again and offering Harry her hand once she had straightened up. "So I'm not sure there's much you can do to help me," she said, helping Harry to his feet. "Unless you happen to have the jaws of life with you." She smiled as she said this, flashing gleaming, straight, white teeth.

"Can't say I do," Harry retorted, dusting off the back of his trousers, still not quite able to take his eyes off of her. "I do have a phone though," he said, reaching to his back pocket for his iPhone. "If there is someone you would you like to call…maybe to pick you up or something?"

"Thanks, but there's not really anyone I can call to be completely honest. I just moved here so I really don't know anyone. I'll probably just end up walking to the bus stop," she said, gathering her purse and shoes that were still on the ground. "Thank you for your help, though Harry. I do appreciate it," she stood for a moment, the same look in her eyes as earlier, lingering on Harry's eyes and again bringing her attention to his gloves. "It's very nice to meet a gentleman now and then," she said, snapping out of the trance as quickly as she had entered and looking back up to Harry's face with a quick smile.

And with that she was off, already almost 20 feet away before Harry could say goodbye or offer her anymore assistance.

"You don't need a ride or something?" he yelled, fumbling for his keys in his pocket. She stopped for a moment and spun around, only to answer, "It was lovely to meet you Harry," before turning around and hurrying down the street.

Harry stood for a moment, wondering if he should go after her, but soon decided against it. He had to be up early in the morning and he knew the bus stop was little more than a couple blocks away.

"It was lovely meeting you too Charlotte," he whispered, still staring at the corner she had just turned.

A shiver soon reminded him of the cold and he rushed to his car, cranked up the heater, and began his way home, wondering the whole night whether she got to the bus stop alright.

That was the first night he dreamt of her.


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't know man, that's seems kind of really creepy that you had a dream about a girl you just met," Zayn said, pouring his cereal into his boul and spilling a little bit on the counter without bothering to even attempt to clean it up.

Harry winced. He had been living with Zayn for the past couple of months and he had been regretting the decision since the first night. At the time it had seemed like a good idea, two single lads moving in together to create the ultimate, chilled out bachelor pad.

However, now that only one of them was a bachelor and Harry was finding a very hard time dealing with Zayn's incessant messiness, not to mention the sounds of his girlfriend, Zaza moaning at all hours of the night.

"It isn't _that _weird," Harry retorted, making his way over to the spill and grabbing some napkins along the way.

"Oh thanks, mate," Zayn said, noticing what Harry was doing and making his way to the bar seat where Harry had been.

"No problem," Harry said, tossing the now milk saturated napkin in the trash bin. "But like I said, I really don't think it's that weird really. I mean I was thinking about her all night worried sick about if she got home alright, so it's natural that she appeared in my dreams. I mean they say you that you always dream about the last thing you go to sleep thinking about."

"Interesting stuff, man," Zayn said, slurping the last bits of his milk. "But I still think there's a problem is the last thing you go to bed thinking about is a total stranger."

"See, but that's the thing," Harry said, now pouring himself a bowl of cereal, avoiding the spillage. "She seemed to recognize me. It was strange, really. She kept saying how she thought we had met before."

"I don't think that's such a strange occurance, Haz considering you're in one of the biggest boy bands of the 21st century and she probably had a poster of you in her room two years ago," Zayn said, now making his way to their living room, adorned with shag carpet and of course a huge flats screen television.

"I know, I know," Harry said, walking to take a seat next to Zayn on their white leather couch. "It just seemed… different is all. I don't maybe I am being crazy."

` For about half an hour the two sat in silence, flipping through the channels and watching everything from Bridezillas to a few minutes of some Disney Chanel movie. Zayn seemed fixated on the television, slouching onto his side and breaking his concentration only a few times to respond to what Harry guessed was a text from Zaza.

Harry, however, still couldn't concentrate. He looked around the room, still trying to piece together his dream, not quite sure how it made sense. He had already lost several parts of it over the day and was now trying to do his best to fix together the haze between scenes. His eyes wandered over their glass coffee table to a nook beside the television (that Zayn had absolutely insisted they buy because it was "fresh", though it matched nothing else in the entire flat), all the while still trying to figure out whom exactly Charlotte Dailey was and why he was dreaming about her.

**_ The previous night:_**

Charlotte hurried her way around the corner and stopped for a moment, half wondering if this Harry character had decided to follow her. A quick glance over her shoulder assured her he had not and she continued her way down to the street to the bus stop.

As she arrived at the stop, she took a seat on the dark, wooden bench and began to collect her thought. Where did she know him from? She knew she had seen those eyes, those gloves before, but where?

She checked down at her watch, which now read 10:43. The bus was late, but this wasn't an unusual occurrence. In fact, Charlotte guessed, she had never actually seen the bus _on time _before, so it was more than expected that it should arrive no less than a half hour after scheduled.

However, tonight was not the best night for it's tardiness, considering the freezing temperatures outside. "It's never cold in LA, but the one night I need it to be warm, it's The Day After Tomorrow," Charlotte whispered to herself, cursing the cold breeze that had just rolled in and stuffing her hands into her coat.

She sat in silence for a moment, collecting her thoughts and trying to distract herself from the goose bumps that were beginning to form on her arms to find even a remnant of a memory that could lead her to Harry, but she was coming up short. Maybe it had been someone else, she thought, that had had those gloves, a different boy with those piercing green eyes. Something told her however, that this just wasn't the case.

Soon, after many futile efforts to search her memory, the bus arrived and she boarded with little more than what she guessed had to be at least a minor case of frost bite and a hunch she had once before indeed met Harry Styles.

_Harry was under his bed, no older than about five. His vision was all but a haze, trying to peer through the sheets to see his mother. She was fighting with her boyfriend again. They were screaming louder these days, not trying to hide the fact that they fighting from the children any longer. Gemma, Harry's sister, lay by his side, clutching dearly to his forearm._

_A glass broke and Harry could hear the cabinets shake as a body was forced against them._

_Even in the dream, Harry felt himself tense. He did not want to be here, not again._

_Suddenly, though he was in a living room, sitting on a very comfortable couch which appeared to be draped in lace. He looked around him at the white decorations draped over the furniture. The coffee table in front of him was covered by a white and copper cloth with a center piece of only a white lily enclosed in a tall, glass vase. The grand piano to his right was adorned with a large, white bow and had silver confetti sprinkled over its keys._

_Soon, Harry found himself making his way over to the left side of the room, where a mirror was hung. He looked into it. He was much younger, little more than 15 he guessed. Harry was fully aware he was in a dream now, as he looked himself up and down. He examined himself closer in the mirror. His hair was half curled/half flat as it usually was when he tried to style it at that age. He was much shorter, perhaps little more than 5 foot 6. He was wearing a black, ill fitted suited._

_In an instant, Harry was no longer alone in the room. Behind him was the silhouette of a girl, a girl with long, flowing dark brown hair, wearing a dusty waitressing uniform, who, at the this age, was at least 2 inches taller than him. She stood there for a moment, the same look of curiosity in her eyes as the night before. "You look so familiar," she said, coming up behind Harry and stuffing something in his pant pocket._

_Suddenly they were in the dark, in the center of the room where the coffee table once lye, sitting cross legged on the floor, illuminated only by a small, white candle in between them._

_"It was lovely meeting you Harry," Charlotte said, her piercing green eyes delving into his. "Good luck."_

_The next moment she was gone and Harry was sitting once again on the couch he had began on, left only with a clump of wool in his back pocket-a pair of fingerless gloves in his hands, the same pair he had been wearing that night._


	3. Chapter 3

"Ah shit mate," Zayn said, breaking Harry's concentration. He looked over to Zayn who was reading a text on his blackberry. "Just got a text from Liam," he said. "Zayn," he read, "please do not forget that you and Harry have to be at the fitting for your tuxes at 4 o'clock sharp at Armani today. I'll be there waiting. Please also remind Niall if you see him, yeah? Thanks."

"Wanker," Harry said, looking up at the clock that read, to no surprise, 3:43. "We have to be all the way across town in less than 20 minutes? I'm not even showered!"

Zayn groaned, lifting himself off the couch and hurrying to the stairs, Harry trailing behind.

"Tell me bout it," Zayn said, hurrying up the winding steps. "I'm getting quite sick of this wedding business to be honest," he noted, pushing his bedroom door open.

Within minutes both of the boys emerged, hair wet, wearing fresh clothes. Zayn had chosen white jeans and a black top with his white Nike's, a usual look for him, as wear Harry had thrown on a tank, black jeans and his worn out white converse.

"Ready mate? Let's have at it," Zayn said, stopping in the bathroom to spritz on some cologne.

By 3:50, the boys were on their way across town and arrived at the Armani shop at precisely 4:12.

They were greeted by Liam, who was anxiously waiting at the door, tapping his foot. "There you are! I've been waiting for you forever!" Liam yelled, hustling them to get inside.

Harry groaned. Every since he had proposed to Danielle, Liam had become quite the Bridezilla. It was strange really. Danielle seemed to wait in the sidelines, occasionally making her opinion known, but making the rest up to Liam, who seemed to readily take on the task of planning the wedding practically by himself. Over the past few months Liam had been a mess, constantly drowning in phone numbers and names of photographers, florists, and wedding planners, and he was certainly not happy that two of his groomsmen were late for their fitting.

"I hope you know I'm very angry with you," Liam said, leading them past the store entrance into a back room. "The store manager has allowed us this appointment last minute, but they haven't got all day."

The room where their appointment was to take place was small and simple. In the center of the room was a small pedestal, a three part mirror standing in front of it. The walls were adorned with countless rack of several tuxedos and suits alike in several different fits, styles, and colors. Harry and Zayn groaned in sync.

"Hello gentleman," a middle aged women greeted them, leading them farther into the room. "My name is Heidi and I will be helping you all today. You must our last groomsmen, Harry and Zayn, am I correct?"

They both nodded, now a bit embarrassed at their appearance.

"Well Harry, we'll start with you if you don't mind. We already fitted Niall so we'll go with you next," she said, pointing to Niall, who was sitting in the corner of the room, napping, a box of goldfish crackers strewn across his lap.

Heidi helped Harry a top the pedestal and handed him a tux, it was white and had silver buttons. Interesting, Harry thought, white.

Within the next half hour and several pins, mark, and measurements later, the boys were deemed fitted and allowed to exit. They had, however, not escaped the wrath of Liam, who was chatting them up about the dessert tasting he had in half an hour.

"It's going to be so difficult to choose the desserts though, I think, I heard all the pastries at this place are absolutely brilliant. Never been there myself, but Danielle swears by it. Called Blue Moon, you guys ever been there?" he asked, writing Heidi a check and giving a quick thank you.

Harry's eyes instantly snapped up. "I was there just last night actually," he said, suddenly again remembering Charlotte. "The desserts did seem to be good, yeah."

"Perfect then," Liam said, waving to lads and beginning to walk to his car.

"Liam," Harry said, hurrying after him, who quickly stopped. "Would you mind if I go with you? I..um..left my hat there I think."

Liam look at his questioningly. He could see right through him, Harry knew that, but he also knew that Liam knew Harry, knew he wouldn't be asking for nothing.

"Sure," he said, finally, motioning to his car. "Come along."

Harry followed his a few steps toward the care before Liam quickly turned around to face him. "But Haz, I have to ask you to help me something if you're going to come okay?" he said, looking very serious all of a sudden. "If you're going to come, you are going to have to help me with the desserts. I mean tasting every single one of them. Deal?"

Harry chucked a bit. Typical Liam, asking almost nothing of someone, but thinking he had someone brutally offended them. "Deal Liam," Harry said, chuckling again. "Deal."

…..

It wasn't long before Harry was regretting his deal with Liam.

They had been at Blue Moon for over an hour again and had tried, Harry could only guess, what seemed to be over a 100 different types of desserts. At first they were both excited as the chef explained how they had a very, very large variety of pastries, most of which the boys have never heard of. And initially, it was exciting, discovering unique dessert combinations, all of which tasted absolutely delectable. Liam had been particularly fond of the lemon ginger cookies, while Harry had ate every bit of his chai tea brownies.

However, now, Harry was pretty sure he could go his life without have any sugar again, ever. His stomach was making very strange noises and he was still upset over the fact that he had yet to see any sign of Charlotte. He also still hadn't worked up the courage to ask any of the waiters, who had been giving both Liam and Harry disgusted and empathetic looks the entire time, if they knew where or when he could find her.

"This is it boys," the chef told them from over the bar where they had been seated. "Our last dessert, bon appetite. Have a feeling you'll like this one."

The boys both sat for a minute staring, eyes wide, examining what exactly had just been placed in front of them. It appeared to be almost a foot high, covered in chocolate and had a delicately planted strawberry on top.

"Liam," Harry began, burping lowly. "I'm going to need you to take one for the team bud."

"No, no, no," Liam said, shaking his head, hand over his stomach, massaging it. "Harry I literally can't please you do it."

"I can barely look at it mate, much less…_taste _it."

They both groaned loudly and continued staring at the chocolate mountain before them.

"It's really good," a female voice said from behind them. "It's our raspberry lava cake, best dessert on our menu, honest."

Both boys swiveled around to face the source of the voice. It was a waitress , pad in hand, wearing tall black bumps, a bun atop her head.

"_Charlotte," _Harry breathed, in disbelief.

"…Charlotte?" Liam said, looking at Harry confused.

"Oh um," Harry said, quickly snapping out of whatever faze he was just in and looking at Charlotte's face. "We met the older night, out in the parking lot."

Charlotte smirked slyly at Harry. "That sounds awful," she said quickly, looking over to Liam, "but I promise I'm not a prostitute or something. Just had a bit of car trouble and well your friend Harry hear was very gentlemanly about it."

"Was he?" Liam said, looking over to Harry, a very proud expression on his face. "I've raised him well then."

Harry smirked shyly and then looked again up to Charlotte, catching her eyes, but she didn't look away. "I'm serious about the cake," she said, motioning to behind Harry. "It's really, really good. Don't know if you have it in you, but it's worth a try."

They both looked over to the cake again, stomachs rumbling. "You know what," Liam said, rising from his seat. "I'm picking that. That thing is going to the dessert at our wedding." He looked over at Charlotte, raising his finger. "I'm trusting you."

Charlotte smiled widely. "I promise you won't be disappointed. Are you boys headed out already?"

"Oh I am," Liam said, grabbing his coat and keys from the bar. "But Haz said he wanted to hang out here for a bit, so I'll just gonna leave him to it." He gave his order quickly to chef before looking back to Charlotte. "I'm Liam by the way! It was lovely meeting you Charlotte, thank you for help. I'm not quite sure what we would have done without you," he said, reaching his hand out to shake hers. "You too Harry," Liam continued, now looking over at him. "I really appreciate it mate, hopefully we'll recover in time for the wedding. Glad you found your hat by the way." And with a wink to Harry and slight wave Liam was off.

Harry watched Liam exit, a slow smile spreading across his face, thankful for his insightfulness.

"So," Charlotte said, drawing his attention back to her. "Is he your friend?"

Harry chuckled. He still wasn't quite used to girls now knowing who they were. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah a really good friend. I work with him actually." Harry regretted saying that as soon as it came out of his mouth. He knew what she would ask next. _Where did they work? _What was he supposed to say? 'Oh actually we're in this world famous boy band called One Direction but we're on hiatus right now and the fact that you haven't ever heard of us is actually very strange'?

"Oh really?" Charlotte said, smiling. "Sounds fun."

Then again, Harry guessed, he didn't seem to really know Charlotte all that well at all. "Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah he's a really great guy."

For the next half hour the pair talked about a lot, but really nothing in particular, just a chorus of things from the weather to food. They were soon interupped, however, by Charlotte's manager who insisted she get back to work as the restaurant was starting to get crowded.

"Well, Mr. Styles," Charlotte said, rising from the bar stall where she had sat next to Harry. "It was really nice talking to you. We should do this again sometime."

"We really should," Harry said, already drawing his phone from his pocket and turning it to the dialer. "Would you mind?"

Charlotte smiled widely. "Not a bit," she answered. She quickly entered her number and handed the phone back to Harry. "Text me tomorrow," she said. "Maybe we can get together," she turned around and smiled at Harry as she walked to the kitchen.

Harry watched her, a slow smile spreading across his face, a bit more than pleased with himself. He stared at Charlotte as she walked leisurely to the other side of the restaurant. She was wearing the same uniform as the other, this time with her hair up with a tight bun and a pair of electric blue pumps on her feet.

"Oh and Harry," Charlotte said, catching his eyes on her legs and smiling coyly. "It was nice seeing you again, really. I'm glad you came and um…found your hat." She winked and continued her way to the kitchen, heat rushing to Harry's cheeks.

** Later that night:**

_"I'm not going to do that to children, Jared!" Harry's mother screamed, banging her hand on the kitchen table. _

_Harry shut his eyes. No, he thought, I can't be back here again. No please I can't. _

_"I don't care about the children, Anne!" Harry's mother's boyfriend yelled, flinging what Harry could only guess was a glass plate at the floor. "I could less of a shit about those kids! I want to you to come with me to France, so you will be coming with me to France!"_

_Harry opened his eyes. He was in his old bedroom, judging by the posters up in his rooms he was probably around 12, much older than he had been in his last dream. His sister Gemma wasn't here this time. She now spent most of her time at friend's houses. She did whatever she could to avoid this place._

_Harry usually tried to do the same, but tonight no one had been able, so he was stuck here, with him. He pulled his covers more over his ears, wished his walls were not so paper thin, but even with his blanket and ears pressed firmly against his face, he could still hear muffled yells from the kitchen. _

_"Don't you ever say that about my-"Anne started, before being quickly cut off by a loud pounding noise against the cupboard, a faint whimper escaping her lips. _

_It wasn't long before Harry heard her begin to cry._


End file.
